


Warmth in Winter

by omet



Category: Captain America - All Media Types, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: AU where nat comes back after tws and she becomes sam and steve's running buddy, Abuse, Desperation, Diapers, HYDRA Trash Party, Identity Issues, Implied/Referenced Brainwashing, Level-headed Sam, M/M, Manipulation, Panic Attacks, Stockholm Syndrome, Wetting, really not a fix-it, rollins is sick of your shit, the winter soldier is smarter than people think
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-13
Updated: 2015-01-13
Packaged: 2018-03-07 09:23:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 16,404
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3169694
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/omet/pseuds/omet
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Asset wants to be good, but the rules keep changing. </p><p>Written for <a href="http://hydratrashmeme.dreamwidth.org/1504.html?thread=1575392">this prompt</a> on the hydratrashmeme.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Warmth in Winter

**2010**

The transport lasted seven hours. By the time they reached the safehouse, the Asset's body was shaking with minute, irregular tremors. 

Commander Rumlow had not allowed them to stop, despite protests from the two other agents in the car. They had left the base late already and continued to fall behind schedule. Their vehicle was not properly equipped for the unexpected snow storm that had blown through the area several hours before departure and the other cars on the road did not drive quickly enough to suit the Commander. 

Despite the increasingly heavy snowfall, Secretary Pierce had not cancelled the mission nor adjusted their timetable. _Old bastard,_ the Asset had heard the Commander say under his breath when he'd received this news halfway through West Virginia. 

The Asset had swallowed back vomit. Any harm toward the Secretary, even harmful words, caused nausea as inevitably as a stun baton caused pain. It warranted punishment. But the Asset does not question the Commander. The Asset decided to pretend it did not hear. Without moving, it closed its ears and let itself go away, just far enough that it could be pulled back by its Commander's voice the moment it was needed. The Asset was not needed during transport. 

It had remained this way, somewhere else, until that thin fraying tether between the Asset and its body quivered enough to force them back together again. It wasn't a voice but a pain. 

The pain in the Asset's bladder had become impossible to ignore. The Asset had been able to set it aside while at the base and during the earlier portion of the transport, to let it fade into the background like the constant ache of its spine and the area to which the metal arm attached. But its bladder had been much less full then and there had been so many distractions. Technicians touching it, the Commander giving mission details, the buzz of the Asset's brain committing every word and picture to memory. Then later the bickering between the Commander and Agent Rollins and the sounds of Agent Gillette's cell phone game in the car. The vehicle had then grown silent, although the Asset's enhanced hearing picked up the sound of its own heart beating. Ten percent faster than its normal resting heart rate. 

The strain on its bladder seemed to stimulate the rest of the Asset's body, creating a strong urge to writhe in place. It stifled this urge and remained still. The Asset would say nothing. The Asset was not allowed to ask. It was allowed to relieve itself at regular intervals at the discretion of the Commander. The Commander had said they would not stop. If he would not stop for Agent Gillette's needs, he certainly would not stop for the Asset. The Asset would wait. 

After the third time Gillette had expressed his desire to stop and relieve himself, the Commander ordered Rollins to find an empty water bottle. 

"We're already an hour and a half behind. We get off on one of these Hicksville exits and it'll take twenty minutes to get back on the highway," the Commander said. 

"I wouldn't mind a pit stop to get some Funyuns," came Rollins' voice from the passenger seat. 

"First off, no, you'll stink up the van. Second, we've gotta get through phase one while we still have daylight. The target's going to get suspicious about a guy 'reading his meter' after dark, even if you are wearing the vest."

"I'm _not_ wearing the vest," said Rollins. 

"You sure as hell are. I'm not letting Agent Butterfingers plant the bug and I'm clearly too handsome to be a meter reader," said the Commander. 

Gillette shifted in response to hearing the moniker Rumlow had given him. Although the junior agent's displeasure meant little and most likely would not result in the Asset being punished, the Asset catalogued the action regardless. 

"That thing is too damn short on me. I look like I'm wearing a Girl Scout vest," Rollins said as he passed an empty water bottle back to Gillette. 

Gillette sighed and climbed over the seats, muttering something about privacy. The van was not the standard black unmarked HYDRA vehicle used for most missions. It was a silver van with soft seats, seat belts, and smooth edges that blended in seamlessly with the other cars on the road. Except the back windows were tinted and the last row of seats had been taken out. In their place were the team's gear and supplies, disguised as things civilians would transport. The Asset sat between two boxes labelled 'KITCHEN STUFF.' 

The Asset shifted aside as Gillette knelt down in the back and opened his fly. Eye contact was not to be made under normal circumstances, but the Asset made sure to keep its head, not just its eyes, turned away. The Asset would be especially bad to look at the agent right now, although it wasn't sure why it knew this.

The sound of Gillette urinating into the bottle filled the Asset's ears. It squeezed its thighs together involuntarily and tried to ignore it. Tried to ignore the smell that reached its sensitive nose. The Asset was very good at ignoring uncomfortable things, but it couldn't ignore this. After what seemed like an age, the urination ceased and the Asset heard Gillette cap the bottle. He climbed back over the seats and rolled the window down, then threw the full bottle into the snowy field they were passing. 

The cold air blowing in from the window went straight to the Asset's bladder. The Asset would hold it. It would. It briefly considered asking for an empty bottle as well but knew it could not speak the request. It was not allowed to ask. It was allowed to relieve itself at regular intervals at the discretion of the Commander. It would be disobedient to ask. And it would disgust the agents for the Asset to urinate near them. And it was not allowed to expose its genitals unnecessarily. This was very important. 

The pain seemed to have doubled over the past few minutes alone. It was strange that the Asset regularly endured worse pain without a whimper, yet a desperately full bladder pushed it close to the breaking point. The Asset knew it was because of the psychological aspect of the issue, the anxiety. If it couldn't hold its bladder, there would be consequences. 

(The Secretary had explained how fearing the consequences of something can be worse than the thing itself. The Asset's targets were scared of a gun not because they feared the gun itself but because they feared what it could _do._ The Asset was glad the memory of that talk had not been wiped away. The Secretary had sat close and looked the Asset in the eyes. He had let the Asset look back. The Asset often played the scene back in its mind before it slept. It wasn't allowed to keep too many memories and this one was particularly vivid.) 

They reached the safehouse an hour later as dusk was looming. The Asset and Gillette unloaded the van as the Commander and Rollins prepared for phase one. The Asset struggled to maintain composure but knew that its gait had visibly stiffened. The pain had progressed into searing urgency and jelly-legged desperation. The Asset knew what came after this stage if it didn't use the toilet. It had happened before. Fortunately, Gillette did not seem to notice anything wrong. Probably because it was the agent's first time working with the Asset and he didn't know how it normally was meant to behave.

The Asset would be bad to ask Agent Gillette for permission to urinate. The Asset was allowed to relieve itself at regular intervals at the discretion of the Commander. 

...Perhaps the Asset would ask the Commander. No, not ask. Perhaps it would approach him (eyes down) and say "Sir?" (respectful). Or maybe "Commander Rumlow?" (They liked it when the Asset remembered their names. The names of other agents were usually wiped away along with most mission details, but they let it remember the names of its handlers.) Would the Commander know what the Asset needed?

After the van was unloaded, Rollins (dressed in an orange vest) left in the vehicle alone to complete phase one of the mission. The Asset entered the safehouse on shaking legs. It scanned the small building for the Commander but found only Gillette. The agent was in the kitchen looking through the cabinets. He failed to mask his flinch when he caught sight of the Asset in his peripheral vision. 

"You looking for Rumlow?" asked Gillette, speaking to the Asset for the first time. 

It nodded. 

"He's out back trying to get reception so we can check in." Gillette pointed toward the kitchen window that overlooked the backyard. 

The Asset approached the window gingerly, keeping its legs as close together as it dared. Its stomach dropped when it saw the Commander about ten meters away from the house, holding a cell phone aloft and moving it around in the air. The Asset would not make it. It could not walk that far like this. 

It couldn't ask.  
It couldn't go.  
It couldn't ask.  
It couldn't---

The Asset felt a burning warmth along the inseam of its pants. 

Ignoring the way Gillette was staring, the Asset crouched down on the floor below the windowsill. The flow of urine stopped. The Asset knew there must be a stain on its pants. Hopefully it was a small one. A stain would not have been visible on black combat gear, but it was wearing blue denim trousers necessary for passing as a civilian during the transport. 

The Asset pressed its hands between its legs and watched as Gillette continued scouring the cabinets, pulling out ready-made snack items. If it focused entirely on Gillette, if it forgot everything else, forgot the liquid inside it churning around and the dam about to--

Another hot jet of urine soaked the Asset's clothing and, despite its best efforts to contain it, this one lasted nearly three seconds. The Asset bolted up and darted to the bathroom. It had noticed the room on its way inside, looked longingly at the toilet on its search for the Commander. 

_It wasn't allowed but it couldn't make a mess couldn't couldn't it was being very bad_

Tears prickled the Asset's eyes as it unzipped and removed itself from the trousers with unsteady hands. Just as another leak began from its exhausted bladder, it aimed and released into the toilet. The stream was strong and echoed through the house. The Asset couldn't help but moan in relief from the pain that had lasted for hours. For a moment it forgot that it was being bad, lost in the sensation. 

The Asset sensed the presence before it heard footsteps outside the doorway. It was already reeling back away from the toilet before the sharp voice cut through the air, sending every cell in the Asset's body into panic. 

"What the fuck do you think you're doing?! Dogs go outside!"

The Commander was shouting. The Asset was cowering in the corner near the edge of the bathtub. It had taken a few seconds for it to stop urinating. Its genitals were exposed and its pant legs were stained dark with patches of urine. 

The Asset quickly covered itself and the words began to flow out automatically. 

_I'm sorry sir I'm sorry I didn't mean please forgive me sir Commander I'm sorry I'm sorry_

Now the Asset remembered. It was fuzzy around the edges and difficult to grasp but the memory was there. Somewhere hot. Lots of trees. Lots of mud. Three targets in three days. One safehouse with one toilet for a team of nine. The Commander hadn't allowed the Asset to use the toilet. The Asset was a dog. An agent had given the Asset fruit from a tree and it had gotten sick. Laughter when the Asset had to ask permission five times in one evening to go outside and vomit again. Disgust when it had soiled its blankets during the night. 

_"We should put diapers on him."_

\-----

The Commander had hit the Asset and told it to stand in a corner of the living room. Though the urine-soaked pants had begun to itch, it was far from a terrible punishment. The Asset never minded standing in a corner unless its legs were broken. Its lower half still felt heavy as it had only managed to release about one-third of its bladder. But it was no longer unbearably full and the feeling could be ignored.

By the time Agent Rollins returned, the light bruises had almost faded, but the heavy denim remained visibly wet. Rollins took one look at the Asset then strode into the kitchen to join the Commander and Rumlow. 

"You know, you might have been onto something with the diaper idea," the Asset heard Rollins say with a laugh. 

The three agents discussed the mission over the sound of clinking bottles. During the check-in the Commander had been given clearance to delay phase two of the mission by one day due to inclement weather. That meant the agents could partake in the alcohol Commander Rumlow never failed to stash among the mission supplies (this time it had been in a small box labelled 'DAD'S STUFF'). 

The Asset watched the moon disappear and reappear through the gaps in the blinds on the living room windows. Its pants were nearly dry when the Commander's voice came from the kitchen, ordering the Asset to clean up the table. 

Rollins had left, most likely asleep in one of the bedrooms. Gillette dozed in his chair at the kitchen table as a line of drool slowly made its way down his chin. The Commander only had two empty beer bottles in front of him, but he already had a look in his eye that the Asset--

The Asset pushed away the wispy beginnings of a memory and began to clear the table. It felt the Commander's eyes watching it move. The Asset was doing it right. It cleaned up a puddle of beer with soap and water instead of just a paper towel. It didn't need to be punished because it wasn't going to disobey again. 

But it knew the Commander wasn't watching it to make sure it did a good job. The Commander wanted--

All too soon, the kitchen was clean. The Asset had worked quickly. It had wanted to stall, but it was trained to be efficient. Not that stalling would have worked anyway. 

The Commander's hand touched the back of the Asset's neck. The Asset didn't jump, but it was a close thing. 

"I haven't forgotten what you did today. You're a bad boy."

The Asset nodded, its eyes on the floor. 

"I should tell Pierce."

The Asset nodded again. It didn't know that the Secretary had forbidden it from using toilets. It had thought that was just a rule for Commander Rumlow's missions. It felt a stab of guilt when it realized it had disobeyed the Commander _and_ the Secretary. 

The Commander released the Asset's neck and leaned back against the kitchen counter. "But what have I always told you when you disobey?"

"I have the choice to be good again." The Asset spoke the words before it realized it had opened its mouth. 

"That's right, Baby. You always have a choice."

The Asset managed a tiny nod. Every muscle felt stiff and brittle. 

"Do you want to be good?" the Commander asked. 

The Asset couldn't force itself to speak. It couldn't even nod this time. But inside it thought _Yes yes I want to be good let me be good yes_

And the Commander must have known because he led the Asset to the master bedroom and closed the door behind them. 

\-----

The Asset woke up wet. 

It was not an unfamiliar feeling and the Asset was immediately thankful that it hadn't remained in the Commander's bed last night. After the Commander had finished, the Asset had lain there for a long time listening to his breathing. When it was sure the Commander had drifted off, it gingerly extracted itself from the bed so as not to disturb the man's sleep. The metal arm had been the most difficult part to move as it had adhered to the Commander's sweat-soaked skin when he had finally flopped down next to the Asset. 

The Asset had then tiptoed back to the living room and settled itself down on the throw rug near the artificial fireplace. It would not be in anyone's way when the other agents got up in the morning, but it would also be readily visible. It would not startle anyone. 

The Asset had arranged itself in its preferred sleeping position: on its side, legs tucked into its torso, flesh shoulder touching the floor so that no strain was put on the metal-flesh junction of its other side. Its metal arm curled protectively over its head and blocked out the dim light. The kitchen light was still on and the Asset could hear faint snoring coming from Gillette who was probably still sitting at the table. The Asset hadn't been given dinner, but it didn't dare enter the kitchen, not even to turn the light off. Gillette's position meant that he was in little danger of choking if he vomited in his sleep, so the Asset had no business disturbing the agent. It had closed its eyes and quickly fallen asleep.

The Asset didn't move when it slept. This was useful during missions when it was perched in a tree or sitting in a crowded van. It also meant that it had soaked its entire right side as it slept while the left was nearly dry. Its denim pant leg was wet down to the knee and even the right side of its shirt was damp. The pants smelled especially strongly of urine, since the Asset had already pissed in them the day before. The Asset sat up and realized with a jolt of horror that the beige throw rug underneath had a huge dark stain on it with the Asset at the center. The rug squelched when it moved, meaning there was probably an actual puddle under it sitting on the hardwood floor. 

The Asset knew its bladder capacity was huge, but it had never had an accident this bad before. Or maybe it had. It couldn't remember. It couldn't even try to grasp those slippery edges of fragmented memories, not when every neuron was firing at once, setting its brain alight with panic. _Hide it-- bury it-- beg-- don't let them see what you did bad dog--_

Shaking hands quickly removed its shirt, fingers fumbling the buttons. It was never like this in the field. Even when there was chaos all around, agents shooting, screaming, smoke filling the air, the Asset's hands never wavered as it made one steady shot after another. But the Asset wasn't in the field. It was in its master's house and it had just soiled Master's rug instead of waiting _just waiting_ until it was allowed to go outside like it should. The Asset frantically pressed the shirt into the carpet again and again until the fabric was completely saturated. The stain wasn't any less visible and now it had two completely soiled articles of clothing. 

It needed something else. There would be towels and blankets in the bathroom but those were for the agents. It needed cleaning supplies. And something to take the smell out of the room. The Asset knew how to clean. It knew how to be useful. If the agents allowed, it would clean up the mess very quickly and wash the carpet. It could fix this if they let it. It didn't need to be punished right away, not in wet clothes...

The Asset rarely cried but right then it couldn't stop the tears. It sat in its mess and wept silently into its urine-damp hands. 

That was how the Commander found it when he emerged from the bedroom a few minutes later. The Asset didn't need to look up to know the man was staring at it. The Commander could smell the urine and knew what it had done. 

The Asset was scared when the Commander shouted, but it was always worse when the Asset was punished silently. The Commander began kicking the Asset with his socked feet, not wanting to get his fists dirty. Both of them were quiet, the only sound Rumlow's foot connecting with the Asset's flesh. It wouldn't scream. The pain wasn't terrible. Rollins and Gillette would not be woken. Then the Commander retrieved his stun baton from his room. He pressed it into the Asset's stomach, setting the power on medium. The Asset could no longer keep silent and a few painful moans escaped its throat despite its best effort. The pulsing shocks radiated outward from the Asset's core until it could feel them it its fingertips. The metal arm's circuitry was agitated, causing uncontrollable twitching. The Asset knew it would have urinated again if not for the fact that its bladder was completely empty. It hadn't had anything to drink since mid-afternoon the previous day. 

Finally the Commander stopped and the Asset was able to breathe again. 

"I can't fucking believe you made me punish you already. Haven't even had my coffee." The Commander sighed and shuffled to the kitchen, rubbing his eyes. As an afterthought he called back, "That shit better be clean by the time I get back in there."

The Asset could feel the aftereffects of the stun baton still rippling through its body. It sprung into action anyway, balling up its shirt and rolling it up inside the carpet. It couldn't remove its pants. Nudity wasn't allowed without permission and it knew its sodden underwear would stick inappropriately to its genitals if the Asset stripped down to them. 

Instead, it rolled up the right cuff of its pants so it wouldn't track urine all over the safehouse. It found cleaning supplies and rags inside a broom closet and would use those to mop up the urine from the living room floor. 

As the Asset passed the kitchen, it saw the Commander sitting at the table drinking his coffee alone. Agent Gillette must have gotten up during the night and taken the other bed in the second bedroom. If the Asset worked quickly, it could have the mess cleaned up before Rollins and Gillette woke up. They wouldn't know and maybe the Commander wouldn't tell them and they wouldn't laugh at the Asset. 

But just as the Asset was wiping off the last of the cleaning fluid from the floor, Rollins emerged from the second bedroom. He stopped mid-yawn when he saw the Asset, his eyes trailing down to its soiled pants. 

"Jesus," Rollins said as he made toward the kitchen to join the Commander. "This is getting out of hand. You gonna let him change?"

"Someone needs to clean him up," the Commander responded.

"Make Gillette do it. He's up. Unlike _somebody_ I had more than two beers last night and I feel like a shit sundae."

The Asset scooped up the stinking rug and rags and went down to the basement. It put the soiled items into the washer and started the machine. 

Instead of going back upstairs immediately, it took a moment to close its eyes. It would be okay to take a moment. Its heart was still beating out of its chest from the Commander's punishment and its frantic effort to clean up its mess. It should have been hungry right then, but its empty stomach churned with nausea. It had been so bad. It would have to do so much for the Commander to make up for this. To make sure he wouldn't tell Pierce. If he did, the Secretary would know how bad the Asset had been. When the Asset realized this, it thought it might actually vomit. 

Its thoughts were interrupted by the sound of footsteps coming down the basement stairs. Was the Commander angry the Asset had taken too long? 

The Asset was relieved to see it was Gillette, not the Commander. The agent didn't look angry. 

"Hey, uh, Asset," the agent said with uncertainty. "Rumlow told me to hose you down outside."

The Asset didn't let its expression change, but inside its heart fell. It was below freezing outside and the night had brought more snow. The Asset didn't like being cold. 

Maybe Gillette knew what the Asset was thinking because he said, "I'll make it quick. Come on, you can change into these after."

The agent had brought down what appeared to be sweatpants and a sweater. They looked warm and soft. 

The Asset stripped and followed Gillette outside. It felt strange to be naked out there, but it wasn't inappropriate because the Asset had been given an order. Immediately the cold wind bit at its naked body and make it want to wrap its arms around itself. The Asset wouldn't do that. It would look weak. 

Gillette let the Asset stand on the concrete stoop outside the basement door rather than in the snow. The Asset was grateful. It had once completed a training exercise in which it had to run laps in the snow with no shoes or shirt. The trainers had laughed and said the technicians would need to build metal feet if the Asset's flesh ones froze off. That hadn't happened, but the Asset didn't want to risk the possibility again. 

The cold water was worse than the wind, but it washed away the itchy sting of urine that had coated the Asset's legs. 

True to his word, Gillette made it quick. He hosed down the Asset's legs, genitals, and a bit of its upper body, but that was all. He didn't get the Asset's hair wet or spray the hose in its face. He didn't touch the Asset. And when they went back inside, Gillette didn't towel-dry the Asset himself or watch it dress. He went back upstairs without another glance at the naked body he had washed. 

The Asset had been right; the clothes were warm. It stopped shivering as it joined the three agents upstairs in the kitchen. It could feel its metabolism ramp up to keep its body at optimal temperature after the sudden drop. 

The Asset was given two 1000-calorie protein bars and a large bottle of water. It ate on the floor of the kitchen, at the foot of the Commander's seat at the table. It had been hesitant to sit by him, but the Commander appeared less angry now, eating toast and laughing at something Rollins said. He didn't pet the Asset's head like he sometimes did but he didn't push the Asset away either. 

"So, 'The List of Acceptable Downtime Activities for the Asset,'" said Rollins as he looked at a piece of laminated paper. 

"You actually packed that?" said the Commander.

"You should go on a mission with Sitwell sometime. He actually brings the Asset's binders. Volumes one through three."

"You're kidding."

"Nope and some of it's old Soviet shit, too. Contradicts the current protocols," Rollins said through a mouthful of food. "There's rules for how much unsupervised time the Asset gets for bathing. As if we let him bathe himself."

"Wouldn't that make things easier, though?" asked Gillette. 

"Oh, stop whining about it, Gillette. Hosing down the Asset after he gets covered in blood or piss or whatever is part of the experience. Plus he doesn't know how to clean himself," said Rollins. 

"He cleaned up the living room..."

"Shut the fuck up Gillette," ordered the Commander with a quick glance down at the Asset. "Jack, what's on that list?"

"'Exercises with approved equipment, educational videos, observing training of Hydra agents, mental exercises with approved games: Battleship, chess, Rubik's cube...'"

"We don't have any of that shit. Or maybe we do, but he's not playing any games. He's been bad today," said the Commander. 

At his feet, the Asset flinched. The Commander looked down at it. "You done?"

The Asset nodded. It had eaten both protein bars and downed the water. 

"Good. Go take inventory. Make sure we've got everything for the mission."

The Asset knew it was a task to keep it busy, but it was a task nevertheless. It left the kitchen and followed the order.

And perhaps it _wasn't_ such a pointless task. After an hour of meticulously checking and rechecking the mission supplies, the Asset realized it had made an error. The case of Red Bull it had assumed was full actually contained only one can. The Asset looked for a second case but there was none to be found. It wasn't on the official items list for the mission, but the Asset knew it was important. The Commander always brought Red Bull along on missions. He would be upset when he realized their supply was so low.

The Asset went to the living room where the Commander, Rollins, and Gillette were sitting and watching a TV show. The Asset was careful not to stand in front of the television. 

The Commander hadn't noticed when it entered, so the Asset cleared its throat. Except no sound came out. It tried again and this time the Commander looked up. 

"Everything necessary for the mission is in order, sir. There's just..." Outside of the field, the Asset could never seem to raise the volume of its voice much higher than a whisper. 

"Yes?" the Commander asked. 

"There's only one can of Red Bull, sir. You usually--"

" _Fuck!_ I forgot to pick up another case."

"Quiet down, Brock," said Rollins, turning up the sound on the television. 

The Commander pointed at the Asset. "I want you to go into the kitchen and use your sniper eyes to look for energy drinks. Doesn't have to be Red Bull, just any kind of energy drink. This fucking safehouse better have something with caffeine in it besides coffee or I'm going to get the shits."

"There wasn't any alcohol. We'd have been partying Mormon-style last night if you hadn't brought booze," said Gillette. 

"Sir..." The Asset hated having to question orders, but it wasn't entirely sure what energy drinks were. It had seen agents drink many bottled beverages but it didn't know which ones were classified as energy drinks and how they differed from sodas. 

Before the Asset could get the question out, the Commander's phone rang. He waved the Asset away as he rose to answer the call outside. 

The asset dutifully went to the kitchen and began searching through each cabinet. The safehouse kitchen was not well-stocked and the only drink there was a can of something called Slimfast. Based on the nutrition label, it contained no caffeine and was probably not an energy drink. The refrigerator contained only 2% milk. 

The Asset returned to the living room to inform the Commander but found Gillette sitting alone on the sofa. Through the window, it could see the Commander was still outside, now talking with Rollins in the front yard. 

When the Asset opened the front door, both men stopped talking and stared back at him in irritation. 

"Go away. Go watch TV with Gillette," said the Commander. 

The Asset quickly closed the door. It sat down on the floor by the couch near the space the Commander had occupied. The Commander hadn't ever told the Asset to watch television before, but it assumed that he hadn't meant the Asset should sit on the couch. Agent Gillette looked uncomfortable but said nothing. 

On the television there was an animated show playing. The Asset knew it wasn't for children because there was a woman in it wearing revealing clothes and firing a gun. The show was good, although there were a lot of references Gillette laughed at but the Soldier didn't understand. At the end of the episode, there was a black man whose hand was ripped off by a helicopter. The asset didn't like this part and was glad when the Commander and Rollins returned. 

"Gillette," said Rollins. The agent turned off the television. "Pierce moved the timetable forward again. We're proceeding with phase two ASAP."

Behind Rollins, the Commander was silently fuming. The Asset hadn't heard anything, but it had a feeling the man had said a lot of bad words during the conversation outside.

"Shit. He thinks the target's gonna run?" asked Gillette. 

"Maybe. Maybe he just wants it done."

"Or maybe he doesn't understand the meaning of _there's fucking snow everywhere_ ," added the Commander. 

"Anyway, we need you to put some chains on the van's tires," Rollins continued. "Rumlow is going to need them to get off these dirt roads and into town."

"Aw, why me?" asked Gillette. 

"Because you're from Maine. I bet you've done it a million times," said the Commander. "And because I told you to."

\-----

Commander Rumlow and the asset sat in the back of the van approximately thirty meters away from the target's residence. There was an open house going on nearby and their vehicle blended in among the others parked along the crowded street. The tinted back windows hid the two of them from view. To passersby, the van would appear empty. 

The target was a forty-year-old male named Benjamin Pham. He was a SHIELD translator, fluent in seven languages spoken by various indigenous peoples of East Asia. The man was nearly six feet tall and well-muscled but lacked any combat experience. He could have been dispatched swiftly by any HYDRA assassin, let alone the Winter Soldier. 

The problem was that Pham may have been innocent. 

No, that wasn't the problem. HYDRA had no issue taking out possibly-innocent people for the sake of security. The real problem was that Pham may have stumbled across some information regarding one of HYDRA's plans to take out the leader of a small indigenous community, someone with whom Pham had worked closely. Pham's contacts with several of the community members in the past few weeks had raised some red flags. HYDRA had gotten ahold of the messages Pham left them, of course. Unfortunately, they were all spoken in the indigenous language, and Pham may have literally been the only person in the world who spoke that language _and_ English. 

They couldn't waste time looking for a translator anyway. Information spreads like a virus and they needed to know as soon as possible whether Pham had gotten ahold of the plans and who he'd passed them onto if so. That was why this was a Winter Soldier mission. The Asset was simply the best torturer HYDRA had. 

However, during phase two, the Asset's only job was to provide backup for the Commander in case something went wrong, or the mission plan changed. The Commander would retrieve the bug Rollins had planted, copy what it had recorded and determine how to proceed. If Pham had only delivered HYDRA information to a few people halfway across the world, they could continue to phase three. On the other hand, if he had secretly contacted SHIELD, the mission would have to be revised. 

The Commander had been nearly motionless for the past hour, sitting cross-legged on the floor of the van and staring at a laptop screen. He was using headphones to listen to the audio files the bug had recorded. The bug was tiny and incredibly sensitive. It could record a voice coming through a telephone earpiece, rendering even the most secure of phone lines useless. The only downside was that it couldn't transmit wirelessly to their location; they had to retrieve it to access its files. 

Suddenly the Commander's hand moved toward the Asset. The Asset tensed but didn't pull away. 

Instead of touching the Asset, the Commander pulled a can of Red Bull out of the plastic bag next to the Asset. Before going to the target's location, they had made a stop at the grocery store. The purpose was ostensibly for the Commander to buy his drinks, but the Asset could see something else in the grocery bag underneath the Red Bull cans. 

When the Commander removed the can from the bag, the Asset finally caught a glimpse of the object. It was a light blue package with a picture of a man's lower half on it. The man was wearing thick underwear. No, not underwear. It was a package of diapers, the Asset realized. 

As the Asset came to this conclusion, it was reminded of a fact it had been trying to forget: The Asset needed to urinate. It had felt the first twinges of need back at the safehouse while the Commander was dressing the Asset in tactical gear for the mission. It had said nothing because the urge was easy to ignore. Now it was late afternoon and the copious amount of water it drank during breakfast had finally reached its bladder. 

The Asset shifted into a position that pushed its legs closer together. The Commander looked at it but said nothing. The Asset wouldn't ask. After what happened this morning, the Asset would be very bad to bring up the topic of urination unnecessarily. Yes, it was unnecessary. The Asset could hold it at least another hour.

Almost forty-five long minutes later, the Commander sucked in a breath through his teeth. The Asset jumped at the sound, feeling a jolt go through its bladder. 

"Sneaky bastard..." the Commander said. He wasn't looking at the Asset, so it assumed he was talking about something the bug had caught Pham say.

The Commander took out his cell phone and dialed a number. 

"Pham is not in contact with SHIELD, sir," the Commander said when the person on the other end answered. "But he is in contact with Codie Stern. I know. I know. Yes, sir."

The sound of that name gently nudged one of the Soldier's more jagged memories. It was too broken to grasp, most likely wiped away by the chair because it contained classified information. But the Asset thought Codie Stern was probably a bad person. It thought the Secretary probably hated her. 

"Well, if we could call it an upside, sir, Pham sounds like he's meeting her later this week," the Commander continued. "We could get two birds with one stone. Yes, sir. She's no translator, but we've got the Asset. I'm not worried. Even if she brings her friends."

While the Commander was distracted by the call, the Asset took the opportunity to surreptitiously press its fist between its legs. This momentarily relieved a bit of the pressure of its full bladder, but it had to stop when the Commander ended the call. 

"Looks like we're gonna be here a few more days," the Commander said to no one in particular. Then he looked at the Asset. "You alright?"

The Asset hadn't realized it was making little rocking motions where it sat. Having had two accidents in the past 24 hours, its bladder felt much weaker than it should. 

The Asset nodded, but this didn't seem to satisfy the Commander. 

"What do you need?" he asked with a tiny smile. 

The Asset couldn't speak. It pushed a hand into its crotch again and let out a soft whimper. 

"Use your words, Soldier."

The Asset's mouth opened. After a moment it whispered, " _I need to urinate, sir._ "

"Is that all? Well I guess you can go. Just use that tree out there." The Commander pointed outside to a small tree growing near the curb. 

The Asset looked at the Commander with wide eyes. 

"Ohh," said the Commander, drawing the word out. "You actually can't. That's right near the target's house, isn't it? He might see you."

The Asset hung its head and nodded. For a moment it had thought...

"There's nowhere for you to go, is there?" the Commander asked. 

The Asset shook its head. 

"Well, fortunately I thought of something."

The Asset looked up and watched the Commander remove the package of diapers from the grocery bag. He opened the package and pulled out a white diaper. 

It wasn't real. The Commander wouldn't really make the Asset wear a diaper. The Asset wasn't a baby. It could keep its pants clean when its Commander allowed it to relieve itself at regular intervals. Twice a day was enough. The Commander wouldn't--

But then the Commander gave the order and the Asset was reaching out for the diaper, taking it in its metal hand. And in that blurry and comforting fog that overcame its mind when the Asset was given a task, it stripped down to the skin and pulled on the diaper. The white padding felt soft against its bare buttocks and genitals. 

"Put your pants back on," the Commander ordered. 

The Asset obeyed. Its hands were shaking again just as they had that morning. 

The Commander abruptly climbed over the seats to the front of the van and started the engine. They pulled away from the curb and the Commander drove them down the target's street the way they had come. The Asset held its bladder tightly as the motion of the van jostled its body. Through the window, it watched the buildings and trees as they passed them by. 

At first it thought the Commander was taking them back to the safehouse. After all, phase two was complete and nothing more could be accomplished at the target's house for now. Then the Commander made a wrong turn and the Asset realized they were going somewhere else. It didn't recognize these roads and wondered if the Commander knew exactly where they were going. His motions on the wheel seemed impulsive. The sudden jerks of the Commander's driving were taking a toll on the Asset's composure. The diaper had briefly helped the Asset's bladder feel more secure and less likely to leak. Now the feeling had been overtaken by increased desperation and the tremors in the Asset's body were getting worse.

The Commander finally pulled over and stopped the van. From what the Asset could see, they were on the shoulder of a secluded road with trees on either side. The Asset couldn't move to get a better view for fear that it would lose control. 

The Commander shut off the engine and returned to the back of the van to join the Asset. The two sat in silence for a few moments, the only sound their breathing in the cramped space. The Asset noted that both their respiratory rates were elevated. 

"Well?" said the Commander with a hint of impatience in his voice.

The Asset didn't understand. Its bladder hurt so badly. It said nothing, just looked out the window.

"You're not pissing out there," said the Commander. 

" _You said..._ the asset whispered, barely audible even to itself.

"What was that?"

"Sir..." the Asset choked out. "I thought that you said... I'm _supposed_ to go outside. Sir."

The Commander leaned back with a smile. "Yeah, I said that. But I meant at the safehouse. I didn't mean you could go outside _here_. You know why that is?"

The Asset looked up at him. "Because you said so, sir."

"That's right." The Commander opened the laptop again but didn't put on the headphones. "Now I need to review these audio files some more. You be good."

The Asset would be good. It wanted to be good. It knew an indirect order when it heard one. The Asset was supposed to use the diaper. Even if it would feel disgusting. The Asset needed to be good. But it _couldn't_...

The Asset held out for ten more minutes. 

Unlike the last time, it didn't happen in spurts. The seal of its weakened bladder broke and then it all came out and the asset was wetting the diaper so warm and fast. Even when it tried to stop the flow its muscles just couldn't.

At the sound of piss hissing into the Asset's diaper, the Commander put the laptop aside and came closer. 

"That's right, Soldier. Use your diaper," he murmured.

It kept coming and coming and then suddenly it wasn't just the diaper. The Asset's pants were getting wet. In the part of its mind that wasn't lost in the sensation of sweet relief, the Asset realized that the diaper had overflowed. 

The Asset was wetting its pants again-- it was being bad now-- it was making a mess but it couldn't stop there was so much--

"Are you...?" the Commander breathed as he watched the crotch of the Asset's pants grow darker. 

The Asset braced itself to be struck. 

Instead, it felt the Commander's unsteady hand on its neck. His touch was gentle. 

The Asset opened its eyes and saw the Commander rubbing his own crotch with his other hand. As the flow of the Asset's urine ebbed, the Commander suddenly gasped and his body stiffened as he climaxed. A tiny wet patch appeared on the Commander's pants, much smaller than the Asset's. 

The Asset knew what happened now. The Commander had finished and the Asset would be punished for being bad. 

It was surprised again when the Commander's hand moved from the Asset's neck to the back of its head. He pulled the Asset's face toward his own. Their lips touched and the Asset was being kissed. The Commander was kissing the Asset. 

It was an unfamiliar feeling. The Commander had never kissed the Asset before. The Asset wasn't sure what to do, but it kissed him back. 

"Good boy," the Commander murmured against the Asset's lips. "Wasn't your fault."

The Commander kissed the Asset again and the Asset felt its stomach unclench. It wasn't going to be punished even though its pants were wet. It had been good. Its bladder wasn't in pain anymore. It was a good boy. It felt so good. 

\-----

The Commander bought the Asset an extra-large Slurpee from a convenience store on the way back. It was the Asset's reward for following orders and doing a good job during phase two of the mission. 

He had thrown the Asset's wet diaper into the woods and allowed it to wear its dry underwear for the ride back. He even let the Asset ride in Agent Rollins' seat with a blanket over its bare legs. 

As they were walking back up the driveway to the safehouse, the Commander smiled at the Asset again. The Asset realized just then that its left shoulder didn't hurt. Its spine didn't ache. It could barely feel the cold on its skin. 

It looked at the Commander and felt itself smile back.

\-----

Agent Rollins said nothing when the Asset entered the safehouse with only a pair of black briefs on its lower half. 

"Someone had a little accident," said the Commander, ruffling the Asset's hair. 

The Commander's touch didn't hurt and his voice was calm. The Asset was afraid that once they were in the presence of Rollins and Gillette its punishment would begin. Handlers were always quicker to strike the Asset when they were being watched by the rest of the team. 

Technically, the Asset had disobeyed. Despite the Commander's kindness on the drive back to the safehouse, this fact prickled the back of the Asset's mind. The scales weren't balanced. It owed something and the punishment had to come sooner or later. 

Yes, the Commander had said it wasn't the Asset's fault and called it "good boy." But at any moment he could take it back. Figuring out how to obey was such a dangerous game because the rules were always changing. The Asset couldn't be a good boy forever. 

Rollins raised his eyebrows at the Commander's words then shook his head and looked back down at the files spread across the coffee table. 

"Is Gillette making the Asset's protein shake?" the Commander asked as he removed his jacket.

Rollins looked at his watch. "Hmm, I guess it's about that time. Why, did he start getting woozy on you?"

The Asset felt a twinge of irritation at his words. It could fast for 48 hours before it showed the first sign of weakness in the field and even longer than that when it wasn't active. 

"Nope, just want to make sure he eats well. He did a good job today," said the Commander.

Rollins rolled his eyes. "I'll get Gillette on it."

"Great. I'm just going to get him cleaned up."

The Asset expected to be taken back outside to the hose, but instead the Commander led it to the master bedroom. He shut the door behind them. 

The Commander indicated toward the bed. "Strip and lay down Soldier."

And for a moment the Asset thought it knew what was happening, until it saw that the Commander wasn't stripping too. 

It followed the order anyway and lay down naked on the bed. 

"Wait there."

The Commander disappeared into the adjoining bathroom for several minutes. When he returned, he was carrying a washcloth and a bottle of something. 

He sat down next to the Asset on the bed and ruffled the Asset's hair just as he had done in front of Rollins. 

"For now this will have to do, but sometime I'm gonna buy you real wipes that smell nice," the Commander whispered. "Would you like that?" 

The Asset nodded yes. After doing so, it realized that wasn't a lie. The Commander had never bought it anything before. Then today he had bought it diapers, a Slurpee, and the promise of another thing in the future. The idea of being bought things did not feel bad. The Asset _would_ like it. 

The Commander instructed the Asset to spread its legs, then he set about wiping the Asset down. The washcloth was damp and warm. When it got cold, the Commander returned to the bathroom and wet it with warm water again. He wiped the Asset's legs then moved up to the Asset's buttocks and the space between them. He didn't linger there, nor on the Asset's genitals. 

By the end, the sticky itch on the Asset's lower half was gone. It nodded when the Commander asked if it felt better, and it wasn't a lie. 

The Commander set the washcloth aside then used the jar from the bathroom to apply powder to the places he'd wiped. 

"This way you won't get a rash," he said. The Commander was being considerate. The Asset hadn't used a toilet for over 24 hours and it must have been getting a reward for good behavior.

The Asset was surprised at the number of things it was allowed that night. 

It was allowed to change back into the warm sweatpants and sweater it had worn earlier that day. It was allowed to drink its protein shake in the living room, at its own pace, rather than choking it down on the kitchen floor. When the three agents discussed the plan for the rest of the mission, the Asset was allowed to listen in instead of being told a simplified version of the plan later. 

After dinner, the agents gathered in the living room to watch television. There was still alcohol left over from the previous night and the Commander, Rollins, and Gillette partook eagerly. 

The Asset was told to sit at the Commander's feet, even though this annoyed Rollins who said he couldn't enjoy the show while being that close to the Asset. Instead of making the Asset move, the Commander told Rollins to go sit on the recliner if it bothered him. Agent Rollins' anger as he grudgingly obeyed made the Asset nervous. The Commander's hand in its hair helped it relax when it realized it wasn't in trouble.

Rollins' anger seemed to dissipate as he drank more and soon he was making jokes with Gillette and the Commander. It was difficult for the Asset to concentrate on both the television and the conversation happening around it, so it let its focus jump between both. Neither seemed to be mission-relevent, but it was important to stay alert. 

The Commander was drinking other things besides beer that night and he quickly became more and more intoxicated. The Asset thought that was inadvisable for him to do during a mission, but it said nothing. The Commander soon grew bored with the television show and demanded that they switch to movies. The safehouse had a large collection of old VHS tapes. After a lengthy argument, the Asset was told to vote on which movie they would watch. It voted for the Commander's choice, of course, creating a 2-2 tie. 

"You clearly didn't think this through, Brock." said Rollins. 

"The commander's vote counts double! So we win," said the Commander. "The movie of the night, aka the pinnacle of American cinema, is _Road--_ "

Rollins knocked the VHS out of the Commander's hand with enough force that it smashed against the wall. "You're not making me watch that again!"

The Commander looked for a moment at the broken VHS on the floor, then lunged forward and tackled Rollins. The Commander got one drunken slap in before the Asset was pulling Rollins out from under him by the collar of his shirt. The Asset wrapped its metal hand around Rollins' neck and used that to shove him into the wall.

The Asset was gentle, not intending to hurt Rollins, simply keeping him from hurting the Commander. It had kept its expression neutral, not the menacing stare it usually gave its targets on the rare occasion that it fought without a mask. 

Even so, Rollins' face was a mixture of shock, anger, and fear 

The Commander rose from the floor. " _Let him go._ " he ordered, and the Asset complied immediately. 

"Jesus fucking Christ," said Rollins, stepping back and massaging his throat. 

Gillette was still on the edge of the couch, looking frantically between the Commander, the Asset, and Rollins, unsure of what to do.

" _No,_ , Soldier," said the Commander, delivering a smack to the side of the Asset's head. "You don't do that."

The smack didn't hurt, but the Asset's stomach plummeted when it realized it had been bad. It was supposed to protect the Commander no matter what. But somehow, it had been bad. 

"You treat him like a dog and this is what you fucking get!"

"He was just defending me, Jack. 

"Is that all the discipline he's getting for trying to choke me?!"

"He didn't even hurt you. He won't do it again. Come on, we'll watch your shitty movie." said the Commander as he returned to sit on the couch. The Asset followed and knelt at his feet again. 

" _Fuck_ no. I'm going to bed. Enjoy Movie Night with your attack dog." Rollins turned on his heel and disappeared into the second bedroom, slamming the door behind him. 

The Commander poured himself and Gillette another drink and told the Asset to put Rollins' movie in. Gillette looked uncomfortable but he didn't leave. 

The movie was bit easier for the Asset to follow than the TV show it had watched earlier with Gillette. There were fewer cultural references, but the scenes were complicated. The main character was also a doctor, so the Asset didn't like him already. 

At one point, the doctor was given a secret word called _Fidelio._ The Asset thought it was probably like the trigger words it had been given by the HYDRA technicians. It thought it knew what would happen when that word was used. But instead of someone getting hurt, the word let the doctor go to a party. He got to see a lot of people in masks having sex and the Asset thought that must have made him happy. There were a lot of people having sex in the movie. 

"Should I cover his eyes or something?" Gillette asked the Commander during a scene with a lot of nudity. 

"Huh?" the Commander grunted. His hands were carding the Asset's hair and even stroking the shell of its ear outside of Gillette's line of sight. 

"He seems like...y'know... like a kid," Gillette said with a nervous laugh. "Like he shouldn't be seeing this stuff."

"He's not a kid. He's a soldier. The best there is." There was a bit of a slur in the Commander's voice. He looked fondly down at the Asset who felt a swell of pride. 

The Commander seemed content. Maybe that one smack really was the Asset's only punishment for subduing Rollins.

The Commander kept drinking and his hands started exploring farther. He stroked the Asset's cheek, its neck, the first few vertebrae of its spine. The Commander touched the Asset a lot, but never like this. 

The Commander started being more conspicuous with his touching. Gillette must have noticed because he left before the movie was over, quietly retreating to the second bedroom. 

"Did you like the movie?" the Commander asked as the credits played. 

There was silence and the Asset realized he wanted an answer. The Asset looked up at the Commander. His face was unreadable. The Asset's usual response to yes-or-no questions was yes, but the Commander hadn't wanted to watch this movie, so maybe it should say no. It didn't want to give the wrong answer. 

"No...?" the Asset whispered. 

"Why not?"

The Asset swallowed. "Because... I didn't like when the woman got punished. It was the doctor who did something bad. He should have gotten punished instead of the woman."

The Commander was giving it a strange look. 

"But-- but some parts were good," the Asset quickly added in case that had been the wrong answer. 

The Commander stared at the Asset a moment longer, then his strange look turned into a smile. 

"I wasn't sure if you were actually watching the movie or just looking at the screen." His voice was soft. It was nothing like the rough tone he used in the field or when he shouted at the Asset. 

The Commander abruptly leaned down and pressed his lips against the Asset's. It wasn't graceful; his fingers pressed hard into the Asset's cheeks and their teeth clicked against each other. 

Finally it was going to happen. The Asset would get its punishment and the Commander would take his reward. 

But the Asset didn't get pushed down into the carpet. The kiss became softer, not rougher. Then softer still until the Commander pulled away entirely. 

"Come on, Soldier. Let's get another diaper on you. You probably need to go again."

Of course the Commander was right. 

\-----

_It's wet._

_It's wet._

_There's a small wet patch on the its leg. It scrambles to its knees and frantically feels the carpet with its hands._

_Yes. It murmurs thank you thank you to no one in particular. The carpet's dry. It's dry all over and there's only a small wet patch on its leg. Oh thank you. It hasn't made a mess on the carpet and it's only soiled itself a little. With any luck the Commander won't notice--_

_But then the Commander is there and so is Rollins and they're hitting the Asset because it doesn't matter it doesn't matter. It's still a bad boy it's always a bad boy. And the Secretary is there and he's laughing and hitting--_

The Asset jolted awake. 

It scrambled to its knees. It wasn't on the carpet. It was in a bed. The Commander's bed. The Commander was still asleep, naked, on the other side of the bed.

The Asset felt the mattress with its hands. The area where it had been sleeping was warm from body heat but dry. Perfectly dry. There was a little bit of urine on the Asset's leg, but it was easily wiped away with its flesh arm.

The Asset realized its genitals and buttocks were also warm. The sensation was sickeningly familiar. It pushed the blankets off completely and looked down. It was wearing a diaper swollen and warm with urine. And it had overflowed a little onto the Asset's leg.

The diaper had been dry when the Asset had gone to sleep. After the movie, the Commander had given the Asset a diaper and it had relieved itself just as it was told. The Commander had touched himself again like he did in the van. When he was finished, he had taken the soiled diaper off the Asset, wiped the Asset down, and given it a dry one. 

The Commander had let the Asset sleep in his bed and the Asset had soiled itself. Its heart beat rabbit-fast for a few moments as it willed the Commander to stay asleep. The Asset had to fix this before he woke up. 

Then the Asset remembered: It was supposed to use the diapers. The Commander had asked it to. The Commander liked it and said the Asset was a good boy. So this was good. At least, it wasn't bad. The Commander wouldn't get angry... probably. 

The Asset moved around a little to see if the diaper would overflow again. It seemed safe, so the Asset lay back down beside the Commander.

The Asset stared at the Commander's back in silence as the man slept. The Asset's heart was still beating too fast with nervous energy and there was no chance of it going back to sleep.

Eventually, the Commander rolled over sleepily and pulled close to the Asset. He smelled like old alcohol, but the Asset didn't dare move away. He pressed his hips into the Asset's and groaned deep in his throat. The Asset could feel the Commander's erection on its diaper. 

The Commander rubbed against the Asset a bit before suddenly stopping and opening his eyes. He reached his hand down to where his erection had been and felt the Asset's heavy diaper. 

"Did you... go?" he whispered.

The Asset nodded. It was about to find out whether it had been bad. 

"Did you do it after you woke up? Or when you were asleep?"

The Asset tried to answer properly. All that came out was a near-silent rasp. "...when-- asleep..."

The Commander's hips pressed into the Asset's again.

"Oh God, Soldier," he gasped. 

The Commander rubbed his erection hard against the diaper. He was rough enough that the Asset had to grasp his shoulders to prevent from being pushed over by the powerful thrusts. 

"Such-- such a good boy. Good Soldier. You couldn't hold it. It's okay." The Commander's breath was hot on the Asset's ear. 

The Asset felt like a huge weight had been removed from its chest. The Asset had been _right_. It had been good. It wasn't in trouble. It used the diaper and it was good. 

"Felt good, Soldier? Felt good to go in your diaper, didn't it?"

The Asset nodded. _Yes. Yes. Whatever the Commander wants. It felt good. It feels good not to be punished._

The Commander's thrusts were getting faster. 

And suddenly the Asset _was_ feeling good. It felt very warm between its legs and it wasn't just the diaper. It was hard. The Commander's hips were pushing into the Asset's just right, making the soft cushion of the diaper caress the Asset's erection. 

It felt-- like the Asset shouldn't be enjoying this. It wasn't supposed to do this during missions. Its handlers could get pleasure from its body, but the Asset couldn't get relief like this anytime it wanted. That only happened during special procedures with the technicians who used plastic gloves and lubricant that came from a 5-gallon drum.

But it felt so good. It felt like taking a cool drink of water in the desert. The Asset didn't want it to stop. 

The Asset _couldn't_ make it stop. The Commander was thrusting so hard and the diaper was so wet and warm. The Commander's arms were around the Asset. Everything was so warm. 

The Commander's rhythm abruptly faltered. He thrusted twice more before shuddering and ejaculating on the Asset's diaper and both their stomachs with a grunt. 

The Asset couldn't help itself. As soon as the Commander stopped moving, the Asset was thrusting its own hips. It found the friction it needed in its own diaper and suddenly it was coming, helpless to stifle its gasp against the bliss of sudden relief that it rarely got. 

The Asset lay there a moment with its eyes closed. It felt like it had just come out of the freezer again. Its muscles were limp and it took all of its remaining energy just to breathe. 

The Commander's voice brought it crashing back into reality. 

"Did you just orgasm?"

The Asset's eyes flew open. 

_It had orgasmed._ The Asset could feel it there, undeniable, adding to the mess inside of its diaper. 

It wasn't a small mistake. It wasn't alright. This was so far from Allowed that the Asset didn't want to believe it had actually happened. But it had. It knew it had. 

It would have been better if the Asset had attacked Rollins again. Or made a mess on the carpet. It wasn't supposed to have an orgasm unless it was undergoing the special procedure with the technicians. And even then, the technicians always changed their gloves quickly and gave the Asset disgusted looks when it was finished like the Asset had done something wrong anyway.

The Commander made a small movement and just like that the Asset was scrambling off the bed. In its panic, it knocked the lamp off the bedside table with its foot. The lamp fell to the floor and shattered to pieces with a deafening sound that must have echoed through the entire safehouse. 

The Asset cowered in the corner of the room. Its eyes darted between the Commander and the broken lamp. 

It was about to be punished, and the thing that made it nearly sick with fear was that the normal punishments wouldn't be good enough. The Asset had done something bad, something it didn't think about doing even when it was alone because the consequences would be dire. 

That meant the Commander would either have to be very creative in punishing the Asset, or the punishment would have to wait until they returned to base. So the Asset would have to anticipate it for days, the inevitable looming over its head, until the mission was over. 

The Asset could take a lot of pain. But there were so many things that hurt yet weren't always painful. There were so many other ways to make the Asset scream, and the Asset had only seen a fraction of them so far.

The diaper was overflowing now. Urine was running steadily onto the bedroom carpet. 

The Commander was standing in front of the Asset. He was saying something. Fear clouded the Asset's mind and it took a moment to process the words. 

"Calm down, Soldier."

 _Trouble. In trouble._ The Asset wasn't sure whether it spoke the words or just mouthed them. 

"Yeah. You... weren't supposed to do that. But it happens. It's okay." The Commander's voice was a bit breathless but he didn't sound angry. 

"...punish...?" the Asset croaked. 

The Commander seemed to grasp what it meant. "You'll get a few whacks with the baton. Just the baton. I won't turn it on, and that'll be it. I won't mention it in my report and neither will you. Understood?"

The Asset nodded violently. Because it couldn't stop itself, because it hated things looming over its head, it started to ask when the punishment would happen. 

Before it could get a word out, Rollins burst through the bedroom door with Gillette behind him. They immediately aimed their guns at the Asset on the floor. 

The Commander jumped back then grabbed a pillow from the bed to cover himself with. 

"Nice reaction time, jackasses. What the hell are you doing?" the Commander demanded.

"We heard..." Rollins saw the shattered lamp on the floor and lowered his gun. Gillette followed suit. 

"Everything's fine. Go back to bed." The Commander's voice was steady but the Asset could see that his hands were shaking.

"What the fuck..." Gillette was staring at the Asset. 

Rollins followed his gaze and saw it too. 

"...Is he wearing a fucking diaper?"

"So what? You know he's fucking incontinent!" said the Commander. 

"Because you never let him use the toilet!" Rollins shouts. "I _know_ you don't!"

"Because he's supposed to go outside! I treat him like a dog to foster obedience. You'd get it if you weren't an idiot and knew a single goddamn thing about being a handler!"

Rollins didn't even react to the insult. "This is some kind of fucked-up sex thing, isn't it? Jesus Christ. I knew you were a pervert, but _holy shit_."

"Fuck you. You don't even _have_ sex, Jack. And fuck _you_ for not defending your commander." Rumlow pointed an accusatory finger at Gillette. 

Gillette looked uncertain but didn't move from Rollins' side. 

The anger in the room became too much for the Asset to bear. It began to cry silently, pulling its chin up to its bare knees.

Rollins' voice was quiet and serious when he spoke again. 

"You know you're dead if Pierce finds out you've been doing this shit. You're dead. Your family's dead. Shit, _I'm_ probably dead for being stupid enough to be your friend."

The Commander laughed, but it sounded forced. "Pierce would thank me. I saw a problem and I solved it. He pisses himself when the techs pull him out of cryo, too. If he wore diapers they wouldn't have to deal with that."

The Asset felt the sting of humiliation in its chest. Being unthawed always meant emerging from a thick fog where sounds and sensations made no sense. It took hours for it to bonelessly claw its way back to reality. It knew it could never control the words that came out of its mouth on the metal table, mumbling what was probably nonsense until it was beaten into silence. It hadn't known it wasn't in control of its bladder then either. 

"There's a reason that room has a drain," Rollins countered. "And the thawing doesn't even take that long. He's only incontinent when he's literally coming back from the brink of death. Anyone would be."

"Yes he fucking _is_ incontinent. He pissed himself in bed this morning."

"And there's another question. Why the fuck was he in your bed?" Rollins asked. 

The Commander opened his mouth but nothing came out. In the silence, the Asset's quiet sob was audible. 

"You're upsetting him. Look, he pissed himself again," the Commander told Rollins, pointing to the dark stain on the carpet under the Asset. 

The accident had been because the Asset was scared of the Commander getting angry, not Agent Rollins. It happened before Rollins came in the room. The Asset didn't mention that. It couldn't have spoken through the sobs even if it had wanted to betray the Commander. 

"Shit... sorry, Soldier." Rollins rubbed his forehead. "How the fuck is he gonna complete the mission like this?"

"He was pretty calm when he was watching TV with me yesterday." Gillette offered. "Maybe if I--"

" _I'll_ calm him down. You two get those guns out of here," the Commander ordered. 

Rollins narrowed his eyes at the Commander. "No more diaper shit."

"He _needs_ them. It's a real medical issue." The Commander turned to the Asset. "Tell him."

The Asset looked between the Commander and Rollins. It knew the truth. And it knew what it was supposed to say. If it said it maybe they would all stop talking and being angry and the Asset's heart would stop pounding against its ribcage like a jackhammer. 

"...I-- I need them. I have accidents. Even... in the field," the Asset mumbled. 

It didn't mention that that had only occurred twice. Both times because the Asset had been in a nest waiting for a target and wasn't allowed to move. 

"It makes a mess, doesn't it, Soldier? And then you're uncomfortable for the rest of the mission," the Commander said, looking at the Asset hard. 

The Asset nodded. 

Rollins hesitated, then shrugged. "Just make sure he keeps it together for the rest of the mission. If he gets us killed I'm gonna be so fucking pissed."

When they were alone again, the Commander put his hand on the Asset's shoulder. 

The Asset wasn't crying anymore. It felt numb, like most of its neurons had burnt out and now it was just shallow breathing in a hollow body cavity. It couldn't feel the wetness of the diaper or the tears on its face anymore. The Asset sat frozen in place as the Commander stroked its skin. His fingertips felt so far away. 

"Let's get you cleaned up, okay? I'll get you a dry diaper. And then we'll see about taking care of your punishment." 

\-----

**2015**

Bucky slept through breakfast. When he finally emerged from his room around 11, he looked like a dirty ghost. 

Steve suddenly felt ashamed at how bad it had gotten. Bucky had been wearing the same hoodie and sweatpants for the past week, the wrists and ankles of which were getting pretty dingy. His hair was greasy and tangled. 

Steve was afraid that Sam would think he wasn't taking good care of Bucky. Steve himself often worried that he really wasn't.

Bucky froze when he saw that there were guests in the apartment, but he didn't retreat back to his room. Steve counted that as a win. 

"Hey, Buck. Sam and Nat made pancakes. Have some; they're on the stove." 

"Good morning, Bucky," said Sam. 

Bucky was staring at Nat. He was comfortable enough with Sam, but being spoken to by Nat still seemed to make him nervous. She didn't say anything, just gave him a small non-threatening smile. 

He stood there for a few moments, then finally nodded to both visitors. Satisfied that it was safe, he shuffled to the kitchen.

At first, Steve had reminded Bucky regularly about the necessity of washing his hair and clothes. That had worked until Steve realized he was only doing it when Steve told him to. He'd stopped reminding Bucky in the hopes that it would help him gain some independence. It didn't seem to be working and Steve was going to have to reconsider his approach before Bucky started to really stink. 

Steve watched Bucky as he stood in front of the stove. He was looking at the pancakes, radiating nervous tension. The way Bucky's hands clenched his long sleeves caused Steve to take pity. 

"Here, Buck. Let me get you some," Steve said as he rose. 

He was careful to avoid Sam's eyes as he went to help Bucky. Steve was never sure if he was doing the wrong thing when it came to taking care of Bucky. At the same time, he didn't want to watch Bucky struggle in front of guests. If they'd been alone Steve might have encouraged Bucky to get his own food, but...

Sam and Nat awkwardly continued the conversation, pretending they weren't watching two geriatrics fail at normalcy. 

Steve got a mug out of the cupboard and poured Bucky some coffee. Then he put two pancakes on a plate for him. Two might be optimistic, especially with how keyed-up Bucky was, but Steve could admit he was an optimist. 

"There you go. You can join us on the couch if you want," Steve said as he handed Bucky his food. 

Bucky didn't move, but there was a sudden look of panic in his eyes. 

"...Or just eat here. Whatever you want."

Bucky wasn't entirely well. Steve knew that now. 

When Bucky first moved in with Steve after getting cleared by SHIELD, he'd seemed deceptively... okay. He'd been eager to spend time with Steve and hug Steve and laugh at Steve's jokes. He'd acted happy. He was much quieter than he was before, but Steve hadn't expected him to be the same man he was 70 years ago. After all, Steve had changed too. 

It had taken a week for him to notice something was wrong. And then the facade of normalcy had just unravelled and Steve saw his friend's actions for what they really were. 

Bucky never disagreed with Steve. His answers to questions were always yes. He did everything Steve asked without question. What Steve had thought was amicability was more like a pathological eagerness to please. Bucky wouldn't sit on the furniture unless Steve told him to. When Steve went to wash the bedsheets in the guest bedroom, he'd realized Bucky hadn't touched them. With some prodding, Bucky admitted he'd been sleeping on the floor. 

It had come to a head when Steve noticed Bucky never brought up their past. Though he had nodded and smiled when Steve talked about their childhood, he'd never mentioned their shared memories on his own. When Steve finally asked whether he actually remembered those things, Bucky had his worst panic attack yet. It was bad enough that Steve had to call Sam for backup and hold Bucky's hands down to prevent him from tearing out his own hair.

After that, Bucky didn't talk anymore. He probably would have if Steve ordered him to, but Steve could never make himself do that, no matter how much he wanted their old camaraderie back. 

Sam told Steve he would probably just have to wait. If Bucky wasn't able to go to formal therapy (and weren't those few attempts complete disasters?), then giving him a safe environment where he could make progress on his own was all they could do. 

_He was with them for nearly a lifetime, Cap. Those kinds of wounds don't heal overnight. Sometimes they never really do,_ Sam had said. 

Steve liked to think Bucky was making progress. He didn't have any more loud panic attacks, just the silent ones where he stayed awake for hours at night, shaking. Steve usually stayed up with him.

During the day, Bucky kept himself busy which Sam said was good. He went to the grocery store on his own with the allowance Steve gave him. He watched TV and movies. And he cleaned the apartment. That was about the only thing Bucky seemed to take real pride in doing.

But his interpersonal skills still left a lot to be desired. 

Bucky waited until Steve had rejoined his friends in the living room. Then Steve watched as Bucky set his plate and mug down on the kitchen island. He started nibbling on small pieces of pancake he tore off with his hands while keeping an eye on the others in the living room. They were close enough that Bucky could hear their conversation but wasn't really part of the group. 

Still, Steve liked to make him feel included. Occasionally he looked up and offered Bucky some context or explanation of an inside joke ("Remember Clint Barton, Buck? He's the guy who came over with the dog," and "That's what I always say to Sam when we're running and he's being slow.")

Sam gave Steve a thumbs up. Maybe Steve was getting better at this. 

The topic of conversation switched to the Avengers' last mission. 

At first, Steve had been hesitant to let Bucky hear about anything related to violence. Then he noticed Bucky actually seemed interested in Steve's work with the Avengers. At least, he didn't always have that blank look on his face when Steve was talking about their missions. Bucky was still nowhere near ready to go on missions with them, if he ever would be (but a man could hope). Still, Steve was determined to never let Bucky feel excluded, so he no longer shied away from the topic. He just didn't share the bloody stuff. 

"The look on Barton's face when he shot a boomerang arrow instead of a slime arrow..." Sam was saying. "I'd have laughed if I wasn't falling off the building at the time."

"I don't understand how that doesn't happen more often. He has so many different types of arrows... and Stark just keeps making more," said Steve. 

"It's too bad you couldn't stay on the roof a bit longer," Nat said to Sam. "You missed seeing the arrow come back and hit him in the ass."

Sam snorted into his coffee. 

"We really shouldn't make fun of Barton when he isn't here to defend himself," said Steve, though he couldn't hide his own grin. 

"Aw, but Cap, we do it to you all the time," Nat said with a mock pout. 

Steve rolled his eyes and gave Bucky a _you see what I have to deal with?_ look. He shot Buck's plate a casual glance and saw that he'd eaten about half a pancake so far. That was a promising start.

"You gotta let us get our kicks while we can, Cap. I have a feeling our next outing won't exactly be a laugh riot," said Sam. 

Steve nodded in agreement. "No, it's not gonna be easy."

 _Not gonna be painless either,_ Steve thought to himself. 

Since they'd lost one of their only HYDRA informants who knew anything worthwhile, they'd been flying mostly blind. They were planning an attack on a small isolated HYDRA cell off the coast of Florida. Or it was the largest remaining HYDRA base containing unknown numbers of armed loyalists. Because of its location (not to mention SHIELD's depleted resources) it was almost impossible to get real intel on the place. They'd never begun a mission so unprepared. But Steve couldn't rest until he'd seen it through. 

"Yeah, it's a shame. Not for Rumlow but for us. We should've gotten him to talk earlier," said Sam. 

"No. I'm glad he's dead." Natasha's gaze was hard as she looked at something far away. "We didn't need him. One less piece of HYDRA trash for--."

The sound of breaking ceramic interrupted her words. 

Bucky was standing bolt upright at the kitchen island, his metal hand still curled in a half-fist in front of him. The remnants of his mug were strewn across the floor and tabletop. His bare feet were splattered with coffee. Bucky must have gripped the mug hard enough to shatter it. There was a look of absolute shock on his face. 

"Bucky--" 

Steve shot up from the couch, but Bucky was already backing away, flattening his back against the fridge. 

Steve avoided the mess on the floor and knelt by the far end of the kitchen island. He could still make eye contact with Bucky but kept a generous distance between them. 

"It's okay, Bucky. We have plenty of mugs. Did you hurt yourself?"

In Steve's peripheral vision, he could see that Sam and Nat had risen in alarm. He winced at what they must think. Bucky never broke things. He'd been doing... not _great_ , but better. Why did this have to happen when there were guests over?

Steve had never seen his friend look so utterly blindsided. Bucky's lips were moving but there was no sound coming out. 

Finally Bucky started making some croaking noises and Steve was able to catch, "... _commander-- dead...?_ "

 _Shit,_ Steve thought. 

He'd debated on whether to tell Bucky about Rumlow's death. On the one hand, knowing one of his captors was safely in the ground might help him feel better. On the other hand, Steve wasn't sure whether to count death as part of the "bloody stuff" he didn't mention around Bucky. Sam and Nat apparently didn't have this view, or they'd forgotten Bucky was listening. 

"Yeah, he's gone," Steve said, scooting a fraction closer to Bucky. "He died in the hospital two weeks ago. You don't have to worry about seeing him again."

Bucky let out a breath that sounded like a sigh of relief. Then it kept coming in hitches that shook Bucky's chest. A strangled animal noise escaped Bucky's throat and Steve realized he was crying.

His sobs were somehow... inhuman. Steve hated himself the moment he thought this, but it was strangely apt. Bucky didn't cover his face or close his eyes or do anything people usually did to hide themselves when they cried. His sobs were loud and breathless, eyes open and tears running down his cheeks to fall onto his dirty hoodie. He might have been saying something, but the gutted noises he was making between sobs were unintelligible.

They weren't tears of relief. Steve had been prepared for grim contentment or blankness when he told Bucky the news. He could have even handled Bucky being angry at the fact that he hadn't been able to kill Rumlow himself (though Steve wasn't supposed to encourage violence). 

But no. Bucky seemed genuinely devastated. 

Steve felt a gentle hand on his shoulder. 

"Maybe we'd better go," said Sam. "Call me if you need to."

 _I need you_ now, Steve thought. He was at a loss for how to fix this. 

He knew the answer Sam would give. _Only he can fix himself, Cap. Just be there for him._

Besides, the old Bucky would have hated a crowd around him watching him cry. Especially if that crowd included a lady. 

Not long after Sam and Nat left, Bucky's sobbing progressed into tearing at his own hair and trying to grind his face into the broken shards on the floor. 

It wasn't until he lapsed back into blank silence that Steve realized Bucky had actually spoken earlier. He'd asked about Rumlow's death. They were his first words in almost a month. 

\-----

The Asset hadn't left the guest bedroom for three days, and it was starting to become a problem. 

Being in a small space didn't bother the Asset. Its heart beat more slowly when there were four walls nearby and no eyes watching its every movement. Being bored wasn't an issue either. There were books in the guest bedroom and a small radio. The Asset played it very quietly when the apartment was empty. 

The problem was that it literally had not left the room once. It subsisted on the protein bars and water bottles it had hoarded beneath its bed. As for relieving itself, the solution to that was in the closet. The package of diapers. The nearly-empty package of diapers. _That_ was the problem. 

The Asset's incontinence hadn't been an issue when it was first brought to the apartment. The Asset had soiled itself mostly at night, but thanks to the privacy it had been given, this remained a secret. It cleaned up the floor it slept on every morning and did its own laundry to hide the evidence. 

Then its handler, Steve, had given it money and permission to spend it freely. It immediately bought diapers at the grocery store. At first, the selection in the store had been overwhelming, but the Asset quickly recognized the brand Rumlow had always gotten. 

Wearing the diapers was both a relief and a burden. There were no more messes to clean in the morning, and it felt good when it used them. Every time it woke up enveloped in that soft wet warmth, it could hear Commander Rumlow saying _Good boy. Good Soldier_. 

But Rumlow was no longer the Asset's handler. The Asset was no longer a good boy for using diapers, no matter what it felt. Steve wanted the Asset to be independent and strong. He had never asked the Asset to wear a diaper and the Asset thought diapers probably did not excite him like they had Commander Rumlow. 

Once the Asset had obtained diapers, it wore them all the time. But it usually only needed them at night, so one package lasted almost two weeks. Now the Asset had confined itself to the guest bedroom and was using the diapers for all its needs. The dwindling supply meant it would have no choice but to come out soon. 

The Asset was sitting on the floor contemplating how best to reduce its food and water intake when it heard a soft knock at the door. 

Immediately its heart began to beat faster. Its handler had finally lost his patience; no doubt he was tired of the Asset hiding and now the punishment would come. Steve had been kind so far. Maybe he would not be too harsh when he hit the Asset. 

Another knock came, a bit louder. Sweat started to prickle on the Asset's forehead. 

"Bucky...? I know you don't want to come out and I won't make you. But can I come in? I'm getting really worried about you."

When the Asset didn't answer, the door slowly opened. 

No, the Asset was wrong. Its handler's face was contorted in a strange emotion the Asset couldn't place, and anyway it couldn't focus because its mind was already blurring with fear. 

It had forgotten how tall Steve was, how large. How strong. He had held down the Asset to prevent it punishing itself. None of its handlers had ever been so strong. 

Of course. This was why Steve didn't want the Asset to punish itself. _Steve_ needed to give the punishment. He would put the Asset in line. And since he'd never done it before, this punishment would be... noteworthy. How stupid the Asset had been to think it might not hurt badly. 

Stupid, stupid. The Asset was shaking all over. Could Steve see? The Asset couldn't look weak but it was using all its energy to stop itself from hiding under the bed. 

Steve was approaching, saying something, and the Asset was breathing so hard. There was no way Steve didn't see. None of the oxygen seemed to be getting into the Asset's blood and it felt its vision get dimmer as its chest heaved. 

Something was warm. Very warm. 

Steve stopped moving closer and sat down on the floor. 

"It's alright, Bucky. I'll stay over here. You don't have to be nervous."

The room slowly came back into focus and some of the numbness faded from the Asset's extremities. 

The diaper was so warm. The Asset had... _oh._

It closed its eyes. No, this wasn't happening. This wasn't real. The Asset hadn't actually... in front of Steve...

Steve was saying something but all the Asset could hear was _Good boy. You used your diaper just like you were told. You're being so good for me..._

But the Asset had been bad. The rules were different now. It was supposed to be strong for Steve, not having accidents, not following its old hander's rules. Not being a bad Soldier.

The opposing voices inside its head clashed together making the Asset's temples explode in pain. Involuntary tears flooded its eyes.

_Good Bad Good Bad Good Bad_

_Weak Weak Weak_

And Steve kept smiling at the Asset the whole time and it was so _confusing_.

Over the twisting and scraping of metal in its head, the Asset told its handler, "I'm sorry," over and over. 

It wasn't sure that noise was coming out of its mouth until Steve responded. 

"Sorry for what?"

His voice was gentle but the Asset flinched. 

There were so many things to be sorry for. But the most obvious one...

The Asset looked down. Nothing of its accident showed on its grey sweatpants. Just a few teardrops. The Asset was grateful its bladder hadn't been full. Steve must not have realized what it had done, then. 

But it couldn't lie about this. Not to its handler. 

"I... I wet myself." An ordinary person wouldn't have been able to hear it, but Steve had enhanced hearing, too. 

Steve looked confused. His gaze trailed down briefly to the Asset's crotch. 

"You... I don't understand," said Steve. 

The Asset swallowed. It didn't want to do this. 

It used its metal hand (the one that wasn't trembling) to pull down the waistband of its sweatpants enough to show the diaper. 

Steve turned red when he realized what the crinkly white material there was. That wasn't the reaction the Asset had expected. 

"Oh... I didn't know you, uh," Steve cleared his throat. "Is that what you've been buying at the store?"

The Asset nodded. Then, so it didn't have any more punishable secrets hanging over its head, it pointed to the closet. 

Steve nudged the door open. Inside the closet was the nearly-empty package of diapers. Next to it was a transparent garbage bag, clearly holding used diapers. The garbage bag was nearly full.

The Asset always wrapped everything as tightly as possible, but it knew the bag smelled anyway. It tensed and waited for punishment. 

Steve stared into the closet for a moment then closed the door. He sat down on the floor again at the Asset's level. 

"Buck... you could have told me. You know I'd never josh you over something like that. I'd've bought them for you, even. I did think it was weird, you going to the store and me never seeing the stuff you got."

Steve wasn't hitting yet. He wanted to talk. First he wanted to hear how sorry the Asset was for keeping secrets. Tears were falling again and the Asset couldn't make them stop. 

"Do you want me to go?" Steve asked. 

The Asset shook its head. It would never make its handler do anything. It would never be _that_ disobedient.

"...trying to stop. I am, Steve, I promise. I know you don't want me to use... diapers."

"Aw, hell, Buck. I know you're not doing it on purpose. If you need them, why wouldn't I want you to use them?" 

The Asset would be so bad to talk about its old handler right now. Steve hates him. _Hated_ him, it remembered. Because its old handler was dead. 

But there was no other way to explain and the Asset didn't want to lie. 

"My Comm-- Rumlow. He said... his rules were different. His rules were no toilets. Only-- only diapers," the Asset took a shuddering breath. "At night-- my muscles-- can't hold it. So, diapers. And I know it's different now, I _know_ I should hold it and it's not good when I have accidents anymore but they never made me forget my Comm-- Rumlow's rules and my muscles don't remember at night. But sometimes in the daytime, so I wear them then, too. I'm s- sorry, Steve. I don't want to ruin your clothes. I'm so sorry."

The Asset took a deep breath. It was the most it had ever said to Steve. But this was probably allowed. It had been asked a question, so it wasn't speaking out of turn. Its handler and looked at it quietly the whole time. 

Steve seemed like he had a lot of things to say. He seemed like he was trying not to look upset. 

Finally he said, "I told you when I gave them to you, they're your clothes now. You don't have to be sorry. About anything."

The Asset nodded. It was too exhausted to do anything else. Would there not be any punishment? That was a possible implication of Steve's words, but the Asset couldn't be sure. 

Steve leaned forward for a moment, and his arm twitched as if he was about to reach out toward the Asset. Then Steve quickly pulled back. Instead of touching, he smiled. 

"Well, I guess you probably want to, uh, change," said Steve, and there was less redness this time when he blushed. "I'll leave you to it."

Steve rose but paused at the bedroom door. 

"Do you want me to throw out that garbage bag for you? It looked pretty full."

The Asset shook its head, a little too forcefully. It should never make its handler touch something like that. A mess the Asset had made. 

"Okay. I guess you can handle it yourself. Just do it soon, please?"

The Asset nodded. It was the most politely-worded order it had ever heard. 

And then, because it couldn't stand not knowing, the Asset asked "Am I going to the doctor?"

"It would be a good idea, but I won't force you. I could email Bruce, or we could look for some information online if you aren't ready."

"What if the doctors can't fix it?"

Because SHIELD doctors didn't have the, well, _tools_ HYDRA did. The Asset wasn't sure normal medical tools worked on it anymore. 

"We'll cross that bridge when we come to it," Steve said with another smile. 

The handler had not reacted badly to a question so far, so the Asset dared to ask one more. "What if it's like this forever?"

Steve's kind expression didn't falter. "There are worse problems to have, pal. It'd be okay."

"I disgust you," the Asset blurted out. It clamped a hand over its mouth and hoped Steve wasn't losing his patience. 

"No, Buck. You don't. You won't get rid of me that easily."

When the Asset didn't respond, Steve took his leave, closing the door behind him. 

Steve wasn't angry. There wouldn't be punishment. The Asset could breathe a bit more slowly.

It sank back and rested its head against the wall. So many things were still confusing. 

Once it had understood what its old handler wanted, it wasn't hard to please him. It wasn't hard to do the things that made Rumlow call the Asset _good_. It wasn't hard to do the things that made Rumlow shudder all over with pleasure. 

The Asset had been with Steve for a while now, but it still didn't know how to do those things for him. It wouldn't find out if it stayed in the guest room. It would never understand Steve's rules if it kept hiding. 

The Asset had a feeling that Steve would never say _Good Soldier_. It wasn't his style. He wouldn't call the Asset _good_ anything. 

The Asset considered for a moment. Steve would say... _Bucky._ He'd already called the Asset _Bucky_ , but when the Asset learned to be good, he would touch the Asset and feel pleasure while he said it. And the Asset wouldn't be confused anymore. 

It got up and went to the closet to get a clean diaper. The one it was wearing felt heavy and soggy against its body. It no longer felt so good. Rumlow's praises in the Asset's head were much quieter now, drowned out by _bad filthy mess disappointed Steve bad bad bad_. 

The Asset would see a doctor, even if it hadn't been ordered to do so. It would see a hundred SHIELD doctors if that was what it took. It would stop having accidents. 

It would stop being bad for Steve. 

It would be ~~good~~ _Bucky._

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! I appreciate any feedback.
> 
>  
> 
> Battleship and Rubik's cubes being on 'The List of Acceptable Downtime Activities for the Asset' is a reference to one of the fics in Imbecamiel's series [Brock Rumlow has a conscience. (He finds it inconvenient.)](http://archiveofourown.org/series/109724)
> 
> The briefly-mentioned pain in the Asset's back and shoulder references [stele3's post](http://stele3.tumblr.com/post/99613472580/the-body-of-bucky-barnes-a-massage-therapists) on tumblr regarding the long-term physical effects of the metal arm. 
> 
> The TV show Gillette and the Asset watched is Archer, specifically the episode ["Diversity Hire"](http://archer.wikia.com/wiki/Diversity_Hire), which was a particularly bad one for the Asset to see because of the hand thing. Some of the OC's names were also inspired by characters in the show. 
> 
> Rumlow's choice for Movie Night, _Road House_ , is a reference to Lauralot's fic [The Single Finest American Film.](http://archiveofourown.org/works/2746523)
> 
> Rollins' choice for Movie Night was _Eyes Wide Shut_ (which unintentionally ended up being another reference to Lauralot's fic). 
> 
> I wrote the Asset as being highly suggestible and eager to please. This is why he developed nighttime incontinence in response to Rumlow insisting he was incontinent and rewarding him with affection when he used the diaper. 
> 
> My theory is that the Asset adapts more quickly for two reasons: the serum and the brainwashing. The serum allows his brain to make connections and form habits more quickly, and the brainwashing gets rid of his sense of identity and history he could hold onto instead of obeying. 
> 
> So while a normal person would have a lot of resistance to being forced into diapers, the Asset is under the perfect circumstances to not only use them but enjoy it (because praise) and begin to actually _need_ them (because suggestibility). None of this is based on real biology or psychology, of course, just my own thoughts of what's plausible in this trash universe.
> 
> Also, while I love stories about super-competent-no-bullshit-Rumlow and not-such-a-bad-guy Rumlow... the Rumlow I wrote is most definitely a finally-getting-to-indulge-his-fetish-and-doing-so-with-the-asset-because-fuck-consent-Rumlow. So hopefully no one came into this fic expecting something different!


End file.
